


your heart is an open door

by murdur



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Future Fic, Post-Canon, Sifki Week, Sifki Week 2020, alternate universe where loki lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26035006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: In the little cottage, perched along the Norwegian coastal cliffs, with Loki's wine-stained lips pressed to the back of her neck, Sif can almost forget that she’s ever felt heartache.
Relationships: Loki/Sif (Marvel)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 61





	your heart is an open door

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Sifki Week 2020's](https://sifkiweek2020.tumblr.com/) Day Six prompt of **future or fix-it**.
> 
> Set in a universe where Loki obviously lives. I sort of view this as a companion piece to [come home again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146085) and/or a coda to my previous future/fix-it fic [Silhouettes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108821) although it can definitely stand alone.
> 
> Title and mood inspiration from the song "Paper Thin" by Lianne La Havas, which makes me melt.

In the little cottage, perched along the Norwegian coastal cliffs, Sif can almost forget that she’s ever felt heartache. She stumbles through the doorway of the small home when it’s nearing two in the morning, wine-drunk and tipsy. Spending time with her friends on these unfamiliar shores used to leave her feeling unnaturally heavy, weighed down by sorrow and guilt. The years that have passed since the great cosmic war have softened the sharp edges of that pain. And seeing her fellow Asgardians is beyond good for her, but Sif is privately relieved at the idea of curling in bed and sleeping for as long as possible. As tempting as the bed, stuffed soft and heaped with blankets, looks to fall right into, she doubts falling asleep fully clothed would be comfortable. 

Loki is somewhere behind her, probably wrapping up his conversation with their host. Sif would possibly feel jealousy over the way Loki’s tried to win the valkyrie’s approval, if she herself didn’t find her own cheeks warming under the warrior’s gaze. 

Loki’s slightly skittish nature in the face of spending time with others and their judgement had melted away as the night wore on. The true surprise of the evening came when Jane Foster placed her sleeping infant into Loki’s arms while she rose to refill her plate. For all the confusion nestled in his face, Sif could see the comfort the small moment of approval brought him. 

Loki, rightfully, held more guilt over the past and his moments of failure than Sif did. His path back to the light and atonement was painful and it was still a fragile thing, paper thin. But he has improved so much. She is happy to leave him be for a few more minutes if chatting idly with his brother and friends on a misty night brings him some peace. Still, she can’t wait until he is with her again. She almost scolds herself for being so silly; they’ve spent nearly every moment together since the end of the war, but for so long Loki still felt so far away and the wine-soaked part of her is rarely rational. She yearns for him even when they are under the same roof. 

As though thinking of him drew him to her as a moth follows a flame, Sif hears the door close and catches sight of his dark hair in the vanity mirror she stands before. She grins at the sight of his slightly swaying stride, her heart warming in her chest as Loki slides up against her back and rests his hands on her shoulders. His hair has grown long again, meeting his shoulders and elegantly waving down past his face and ears. The black strands are in contrast to his pale skin, making his bone structure more pronounced. She’s filled with sudden sentimentality, probably a pleasant reaction to the alcohol. Sif is not wired for sentiment nor a static life, but when her eyes meet Loki’s in the mirror she can’t imagine moving from this moment. 

“Finally tore yourself from the conversation, Silvertongue?” she teases, afraid the moment will get too heavy if she doesn’t. His eyes crinkle just the tiniest bit.

“I wasn’t doing the talking,” he argues, although her words were not accusatory. His head falls so that his mouth rests mere centimetres away from her scalp, seemingly content to just be near her. “I do listen from time to time.”

“You do,” Sif agrees, too tired to be contrary. “She is a good leader.” New Asgard was a haven; devastatingly sparse after the destruction of Asgard and Thanos’ slaughter. But it was thriving and industrious under the valkyrie’s care, the perfect place to heal and rebuild. Sif lifts a hand to her ears, making quick work of removing her earrings and holding them in her palm. The earrings patter softly on the vanity as she twists her wrist to free them.

“Mmm,” Loki hums in agreement. His eyes track the fall of the earrings from her hand as though entranced. She shivers as the vibrations and the whisper of his breath ghost over her skin. "It was a good night. Thank you." His lips press to the back of her neck, warm and comforting.

Sif melts under his kiss, her limbs suddenly heavy. She reaches her hand up behind her head to find her hair pins, but Loki’s hand moves from her shoulders to gently touch her wrist. He takes over the task, nimble fingers finding the metal that has held twists of her hair away from her face. As he works, the soft tugs on her scalp and the hair falling around her shoulders make her eyes drift shut, swaying slightly on her feet. She can hear nothing but the mingled sound of their breaths and the tiny clink of pin on wood.

Once her hair is free, Loki runs a hand from the nape of her neck into her hair. Sif leans into his touch and Loki snakes his free arm around the front of her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. She raises one hand to wrap around his forearm, holding him to her. He brushes a kiss to her temple before letting his head fall, his lips resting in the crook of her neck.

No past hurts, no agonizing truths, nothing can touch them, not in this moment. Not ever again if they managed to stay just like this. She knows they can’t; it doesn’t run in their blood. They are wired for fight and for purpose. But in this moment, she lets herself savor the calm. They’ve built a little life here, one full of peace and renewal. There is healing and there are moments of happiness.

Loki presses a kiss to her shoulder before tugging away lightly, pushing past the noise of objection Sif makes. She barely opens her eyes, but doesn’t miss the faux-stern look he arranges his face into. “Bed,” he says, tugging her in the right direction. “You don’t want to fall asleep on your feet.”

“If you’re so desperate to get me into your bed you can just ask, Odinson,” she grumbles, but she lets him lead her over, doesn’t protest when he peels her clothing from her body after shedding his own. He falls onto the mattress ahead of her, and she falls into him, letting the soft bedding cushion their fall. They move in a sleepy, woozy tandem, Sif curling in and resting her head over his heart as he arranges the blankets to cover them. So much loss, and yet hearing Loki’s heart thundering its slow beat beneath her touch, feels like an invaluable victory, soothing her into slumber. 

Just as she feels his grip slacken around her waist and his breathing slow, she drifts off with the sound of his whispered love washing over her like a gentle wave.


End file.
